


As You Are

by Hekate1308



Series: Love And Blood [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Human!Crowley, M/M, Mafia boss!Crowley, Minor Character Death Mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: His husband would never forgive him for getting blood on the carpet. It was Dean who had insisted on the thing (Crowley had from the first thought it was hideous) and now he’d dropped a body on it.It was the fool’s own damn fault. He should have known there’d be a knife coming. How dared he break in and try to kill him as if he was a run-of-the-mill minion anyway?There was a reason they’d called him the King of Hell, once.





	As You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another Drowley AU because I had feels. Destiel will be coming again, don't worry. Meanwhile, enjoy!

His husband would never forgive him for getting blood on the carpet. It was Dean who had insisted on the thing (Crowley had from the first thought it was hideous) and now he’d dropped a body on it.

It was the fool’s own damn fault. He should have known there’d be a knife coming. How dared he break in and try to kill him as if he was a run-of-the-mill minion anyway?

There was a reason they’d called him the King of Hell, once.

Still, things between him and Dean hadn’t been going well lately, and now the carpet...

It didn’t matter anyway, he realized suddenly.

He would have to leave. He’d never force Dean to vanish and never see his family again, so that left...

Dean would probably be happy to watch him go. It seemed like all they’d done during the last few months was fight, and over the most trivial things, too.

_“For God’s sake, it’s a couch, just pick one!”_

_“I would like to be comfortable in my own home – “_

_“How am I supposed to know what you “like” since you never tell me a thing – “_

Maybe they had been doomed from the start. There were just some things he’d never been able to share with Dean, things that had slowly come between them, things that, if he’d known them, would have led to him running away at top speed, and...

Crowley should have known better.

His only excuse was that Dean had looked as gorgeous on the morning he met as he always did, and that he’d known from the first minute that he wanted him.

He sighed as he sat down on the couch.

He was getting too old for carrying bodies around on his own, but this time it couldn’t be helped. And in the morning, he’d tell his husband he wanted a divorce.

He wearily eyed their wedding picture on the wall. Five maddening, insane, wonderful years, the best years of his life, and it was all over.

He really _was_ getting old. He’d fallen asleep right there, on the couch he’d picked out just last week, and woke up to Dean asking in a pointed manner, “Crowley, why is there a corpse in our living room and _why is there a knife in its back_?”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he replied, “Sorry about the carpet.”

“Sorry about – oh God, it really _was_ you”. Dean was looking at the body.

“But why in the back, you can’t tell me – “

All in all, Crowley was rather impressed with his husband’s calmness at the situation. He’d waited for hot, boiling rage. Or maybe fear.

“I had to kill him before he harmed you”.

“Had to... Crowley, we call the police if there’s an intruder in the house. This is what they are for.”

“Not when you happen to be me, darling”.

“Don’t call me that” Dean snapped; for some reason, he’d always hated that particular pet name.

“I’m calling 911. Someone will have to clean up here – “

“Dean, you can’t” he said hastily, getting up.

“Don’t be an idiot, I have to. I’ll call Sam too, it was self defence of course, but why did it have to be in the back – “

“It was dark and I had to throw it”.

“It was... of course you did”. Crowley ripped his phone out of his hands.

“Give that back!”

“I won’t. Sit down so I can explain”.

Dean made an annoyed sound but did sit down.

“Alright. You got five minutes before I – “

“Dean, my real name was never Crowley Sheppard”.

Like ripping off a band-aid, he told himself. He’d always been against useless pain.

Useful pain, to gather information for example, was something else entirely, but that was a subject for another day.

“What?” Dean blinked.

“My name wasn’t Crowley Sheppard. It was Fergus MacLeod”.

“Why would you give me a false name? And why tell me now?”

He wasn’t even angry; that’s how little he already meant to the man he’d married.

Apparently he’d never heard of him, but that didn’t surprise him. People paid little attention to details when it came to news about criminals, unless they happened to be very notorious, and he’d always been content to keep himself in the background.

“From the Hell cartel”.

The media had been responsible for that nickname, and it was more than reasonable to assume Dean had heard about it at some point.

Since a few years had passed, he needed a moment to place the name.

His eyes widened and he moved away from him on the couch.

That was it then, the moment he finally lost him.

He reminded himself it had been coming for some time.

“Wasn’t MacLeod... are you telling me you were a freaking mob boss!?”

“That is exactly what I am telling you”.

“Are you kidding me?”

Dean sprang up and started to pace up and down, pointedly ignoring the body.

“I married – wait why the assumed name? And why did you go after me in the first place? Suburbia isn’t exactly what gangsters usually go for... oh God it was all a cover, wasn’t it. Every single minute. You were playing me...”

“No” he interrupted him. “I wasn’t. I assure you, I wanted to marry you”.

“But... why?”

“What do you know about the Hell cartel?”

“I... didn’t the feds get them all a few years ago?”

“You’re looking at the chief witness against them. As well as several other high-profile criminals”.  

“But... wasn’t it your cartel to begin with”.

“Yes. And then...”

Crowley took a deep breath.

“I told you about Gavin”.

Dean nodded.

“You said you never wanted to talk about him again. I know you still miss him, though”.

He smiled at him somehow weakly. The years had dampened the feeling of loss slightly, but the guilt was as strong as ever.

“We didn’t really get along for years. He spent most of the time with his mother, and I... I didn’t feel comfortable as a father”.

“I suppose you had enough to do”.

Dean was actually joking. There was hope then, of at least parting ways amiably.

“But... things got better. Eventually. He and his girlfriend were on his way to visit me when they had the car accident”.

He’d told Dean as much. Then he’d demanded they never mention it again because he hadn’t wanted to repeat half-truths again and again.

“It turned out someone had cut the breaks of their car. The...” He swallowed.

On to something else he’d never confessed to Dean.

“The autopsy revealed Fiona was pregnant. I think that’s why they wanted to see me... They wanted to tell me in person.”

“Oh Crowley”.

Dean sat down next to him and reached out to squeeze his hand.

“I’m so sorry”.

He nodded, acknowledging the comfort he’d never been able to ask for before.

“I decided to investigate myself... it was members of my own cartel”.

“Back stabbing sons of bitches” Dean said, earning a smile.

“I decided I was done with it all.”

“So you went into witness protection?”

He chuckled.

“It took a while for the FBI to believe I was being sincere”.

“Can’t imagine why. And this guy...”

Dean gestured towards the corpse without looking in its direction. He was still holding Crowley’s hand, and he cherished the contact. It was the last time after all.

“The FBI have always been grossly incompetent. A few managed to escape... No one high up in the organization, but still.”

“I see. So he came for revenge”.

“I didn’t leave him the time to explain himself”.

Dean nodded.

“So what now? We call your... handler or whatever in the FBI?”

He nodded.

“I suppose I’ll be out of your hair in a few hours”.

“What do you mean?”

Dean withdrew his hand abruptly.

“They’ll hardly leave me here, and I know you’d never move away from your family. I won’t expect you to follow me. They’ll probably fake my death like they did before...”

Only he’d had no one left behind but his mother at the time, and she’d most likely been glad he was gone.

“So... that’s it? Five years, three of them married, and you’re just going to leave me here?”

He shouldn’t have, but he enjoyed the hurt in Dean’s voice. Even after all their fights, he was still angry at him for going away. He was still that important to him, at least.

“I told you...”

“Okay, you said that would happen if you called the FBI. So what if you don’t?”

“Dean, there’s a body on the floor”.

“I know and you’re paying for the new carpet, mister, but that’s not the point.”

Dean looked down at the body again, this time seizing it up.

“We need shovels and flowers”.

“Flowers?”

“We do have a garden, don’t we?”

Crowley’s eyes widened.

“Are you suggesting...”

“We burry this thing and forget about it, yeah. Does he have any friends likely to look for him?”

He shook his head.

“Even if he told someone where he was going, they’ll guess what happened and keep their mouths shut”.

“Well then”.

This was a side of his husband Crowley had never seen before, and he was enjoying it immensely. And yet...

“Dean, what do you think you are doing?”

“Keeping my husband” he replied simply, stepping up to him.

God, it had been too long since he saw that gleam in his eyes.

“Are you propositioning me over a dead body?”

“We’re not standing over it exactly. Don’t act so high and mighty, you were the mob boss here”.

“I’m just surprised”.

Dean grinned and gave him a shove. He landed on the couch, Dean towering over him.

“What can I say? There is something sexy about a man being ready to kill for you”.

He pulled him down and kissed him.

They made love right there as they hadn’t in too long, desperately, passionately.

**Three weeks later**

Sam and Sarah arrived at Dean’s and Crowley’s barbecue a little late, but there was nothing Dean couldn’t forgive if it meant seeing his nephew.

“Hey mini-me”.

“Should have known there would be repercussions for naming him Dean” Sam muttered, but he was smiling.

His smile only grew bigger when Crowley stepped up to Dean to greet them, his hand resting at the small of his husband’s back, and he actually relaxed into the touch.

Things were looking up.

He and Sarah had been worried about Dean’s marriage for a while now. They just didn’t seem to have anything to say about each other, and if he’d had to hear about Dean’s “blue balls” one more time...

That was a thing of the past too, if Dean’s posture was anything to go by. He remembered it well from their teenage years.

Crowley and Sarah were talking about Dean Jr. while he was working on the grill; Sam came to talk to him after Benny had moved away.

“Things seem to be going well” he said carefully.

Dean grinned.

“Yeah. We were in a bad spot for a while, but we talked it all through – no more secrets.”

Sam snorted.

“I bet a business man has a lot of those”.

For some reason, Dean chuckled.

“I’d tell ya, but I’d have to kill ya”.

After a moment he added, “We’ve been talking about kids. Nothing specific yet, but – you know”.

“Dean, that’s awesome!”

Dean had always wanted kids. Crowley hadn’t seemed to be interested until now. Maybe he’d needed some more time to get over his son’s death? Sam could easily imagine that.

His eyes wandered to the new addition in the garden.

“That’s a good place for a flower bed.”

Dean grinned.

“Yeah, thought I’d try something new. Charlie had a freak-out about it earlier, you can go fangirl with her”.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but it looks pretty nice”.

“We did it together. Sort of bonding experience, you know...”

He caught his husband’s eyes and smiled.


End file.
